Along Came A Spider: Learning To Crawl
by LZ0291
Summary: Penelope "Penny" Parker was as average as you could get for the daughter of a Stark Enterprises bigwig and a former fashion model. Apart from being a half-American in Paris. Oh, and her spider-superpowers inherited from her grandfather, plus being an occasional ally of two magical superheroes battling a megalomaniac, can't forget that.


_The short version: In the early sixties, Grampa Parker was bitten by a strange spider. In the early eighties, Aunt May learned she could climb walls literally. In the nineties, my dad began doing the same thing. My cousin_ _i_ _nherited the powers of the spider, and thanks to needing an emergency blood transfusion, my sort-of cousin that my aunt looks after also accidentally got himself some spider-powers. The new tens saw them both start wall-crawling in the family business._

 _But they all lived in New York at the time. My parents moved to Paris when I was four. I was thinking, maybe it's time I branched out. Paris and New York are basically pretty close to each other in crime rates. I've got the power. So I figure, time to live up to the responsibility._

 _I had two advantages going for me. One, I could benefit from three and a half generations of experience for advice. Two, I could do good without being a hero, but by being an urban legend. Paris never had any heroes that were confirmed, after all. There were stories that went around when Mama was my age of people being granted power to be heroes for a few moments and of a dazzling figure that watched over the city... But they seemed to just be stories, joining Paris folklore like the whispered stories of old that inspired things like the Hunchback of Notre Dame or The Phantom of the Opera. If I was careful bad guys would start hearing the stories, telling the stories, and maybe think twice before doing their bad guy stuff. Paris didn't seem to attract the kind of guys that called themselves super-villains either, though._

 _The long version? Well, before we start on the long version, small spoiler alert: the urban legend thing didn't quite work out in the end. And neither did the no super-villains thing. I'm not taking great responsibility for_ that _one!_

 _...Okay, maybe some._

 _Like, ten percent. Maybe twelve. The rest is due to people with Kwamis and Miraculouses..._

* * *

The night watchman dropped the keys, to the anger of the taller robber, who prodded his back with the knife again.

"Hey, he's doing what we said..." The shorter and more nervous of the two said.

"Yeah, and he's taking too long! In fact, I bet he's lying about this whole thing."

"The security tape backup servers really are in here, okay? You want rid of the evidence, I'm doing what you asked!"

"Sure. And how can we be sure you really are gonna forget our faces, huh?"

The night watchman focused on unlocking the door to the rooftop shed, and almost didn't hear the fourth voice.

"Don't worry about your faces, they're gonna look a little different in a second."

The two robbers yelped, and the watchman turned to find them both out cold, their noses seemingly broken, and a shadowy figure leaving. A brief flash of moonlight showed red and blue as the figure jumped across the street, and climbed up a wall.

"...I'm retiring early," The watchman said to himself.

* * *

Alya Césaire had always been interested in superheroes. Fiction in comics, animation, manga, like Majestia and the Phantom, like Sailor Moon or Pretty Cure? She read it or watched it. Folklore like Spring-Heeled Jack of Victorian London? Read all about it. Wartime propaganda like Captain America? The cross of propaganda and urban legends that happened with wartime stories like Pérák, the Spring Man of Prague or The Fox, the pro-resistance trickster of Picardy? She'd accidentally wound up learning some history in the process but hey, superhero stories! Not to mention the real thing like Iron Man or the various Spider-Heroes that had swung through the six boroughs of New York City over the years. And as far as Alya was convinced, the spiders had began swinging in Paris too.

Her best friend Marinette, not so much, though Alya didn't see or overlooked the bemused expression her class benchmate often had when Alya was in full Superfangirl mode. Currently, Alya was talking with Marinette by the classroom door, the former on her phone.

"This new story is taking a while to load but I'm telling you, it's gotta be him. It's been three weeks since they started and there's no way all the witnesses could be so consistent even if there are some copycats. I've looked at every report where the eye-witness statements saw something reliable. As in not the ones about a nest in Notre-Dame."

"How was I to know it was a spoof?" Marinette sighed.

"But every witness says they see blue, or red. That's what the New York Spiders wore, and what the one in New York now wears. If only someone could get a decent picture. I mean, everyone's got phones, there's CCTV everywhere!"

"Maybe one of his powers is to dodge cameras?"

(Juleka, overhearing the remark, had a brief moment of sympathy for their conversation subject, before it occurred to her it appeared to benefit the Spider-Man, making her feel a little depressed again.)

"...Who knows, we don't know the guy exists for sure, he could have any kind of powers. Except that of course he does. And... Uh oh, queen bee and drone incoming. Just glare back and maybe she'll ignore us..."

* * *

Chloé Bourgeois shared a mutual glare with Marinette and Alya as she walked past the pair standing by the door into the classroom, the clumsy bluenette obviously in school on time for once. Glares exchanged, Alya went back to fussing over something probably dumb as the mayor's daughter sat in the middle of front table as her right-hand-girl Sabrina trailed behind.

"Something up, Chloé, or just Monday?" Her left-hand friend spoke.

"Well, yes, that and they still haven't given us a wider table..."

"They probably never will."

"...And Daddy says it'll be Italian cuisine at the reception this Wednesday just because it's for their Prime Minister or something! Surely something more exotic would be better? I mean, the only people who think Italian stuff is exotic are pizza-chomping Americans!"

"I half-represent that remark," the left-hand girl spoke, arching a brunette eyebrow.

"Oh, please, Penelope, you're only American on your fathers side, that only counts for like a quarter."

The moment of silence allowed the other nearby voices to be heard by Chloé

" _Yeah, here it is. Someone climbs right up the side of a building and knocks out the two guys forcing the night watchman to let them in! It has to be the Spider-Man!_ " Alya said, ignorant of Marinette's continuing bemused look.

"Ugh, she's still obsessed with those stupid hoaxes? Hey, Alya! I saw the Spider last night, I washed it down the plughole!" The blonde cackled, earning a giggle from Sabrina and the glare from Alya that had been skipped moments before.

"You know, it could be a lack of spiders that causes your problems with moths," Penelope said.

"There wasn't really a spider, Penny, just like there's not some spider-guy. This isn't New York..."

"It's probably just some free-runner who jumped in, I bet," Sabrina spoke up.

"See? We have free-runners and parkour, does New York have that? And we've got a lower murder rate too I bet!"

Madame Bustier entered, urging those standing to their seats. Marinette somehow tripped on the first step, provoking laughs from Chloé and winces from most others.

"...Slightly higher accident rate though," Penelope muttered.

"How is such a clumsy girl even still alive?" Chloé managed to say after catching her breath from laughing, earning another glare from Alya behind her.

"Well, Chloé, while it's actually a mean comment that verges on what we who use diplomacy call 'too far', my guess is at some point about nine months before she was born, her mother and father had something to do with it."

The blonde merely shrugged.

"You know what I meant."

"Penelope, Chloé, class is beginning, you can finish your conversation later," Madame Bustier said.

"Did kinda sound like you wanted her dead, just saying," Penelope whispered a few moments later after the class was instructed to take out their textbooks.

"I wouldn't go _that_ far... Will everyone think I meant it that way?" Chloé said with clear discomfort.

"Probably not but I'll run damage control if they do. I _am_ the diplomatic one after all."

A quick glance at the class showed that while most of their fellow students seemed merely disapproving, Alya and Alix seemed to be glaring at Chloé in outright annoyance, along with Nathaniel, although the latter was more like a half-puppy, half-tomato and quickly hid when Penelope's eyes met his, meaning he didn't notice Penelope's own quick look-away and brief blush.

* * *

As Penelope had expected, at lunch Alix seemed to be seeking a confrontation, the pink-haired tomboy seeing her and Sabrina waiting for Chloé outside a bathroom.

"Incoming," Sabrina said under her breath.

"Parker, Raincomprix, where's Chloé?"

"If this is about the thing this morning, she knows she went a little too far. I apologise for her," Penelope said carefully.

The tomboy's angry look faded a little.

"Well... Best we we ever get I guess," Alix sighed.

"I'll try keep her between the lines, but you know what she's like."

"Yeah, we all do... Better hope Alya's as understanding as I am."

"If she isn't I can just get my aunt to send over some Spider-stuff, New York's actually got a Spider-Man right now."

"About this whole Paris Spider thing anyway, how do we know it isn't a woman?" Alix said as she made to leave.

Penelope suppressed her knowing smirk.

"Well, I guess a Spider-Woman not existing is just as plausible as a non-existent Spider-Man..."

Chloé emerged in time to hear the end of the conversation, tutting at it.

"More spider talk? I'll be the one climbing the walls at this rate, it's all Spider-This and Spider-That right now. If we had superheroes surely we can get something cooler than spiders, I mean, this is Paris!"

Penelope swiftly interposed herself between the ranting Chloé and the incoming Alya.

"I want to speak with Chloé, Penelope," Alya fumed.

"I know, Alix was already here for the same thing. Chloé knows she went too far. But I kinda want to speak to you about something, though, uh... maybe we should speak somewhere else, right, Sabrina?" Penelope said, not forgetting what Chloé had been saying seconds before.

"Oh, yeah, besides I need to give Chloé her notes from class this morning..." the redhead nodded.

Alya frowned, but let Chloé and Sabrina walk off, the blonde giving a haughty smirk in the process.

"So what is it?"

"You seem to be interested in these spider-stories, would you like me to try get my aunt or my cousin to send you some stuff about the real... uh, I mean, the New York Spider-Man?"

"Well, I guess... But isn't the American one like third or fourth generation? I mean, there was the seventies one, the Spider-Girl in the eighties, the one around in the nineties..."

"Oh, yeah, about the nineties one, my mother and father actually saw him a few times, they might have a story..."

Superhero fangirl slash aspiring journalist successfully defused, the day continued into night.

* * *

If one were to be watching at the right moment, they would have seen a figure in blue and red jumping from rooftop to rooftop, making barely a sound bar the occasional thwip as they shot out a strand of rope-like substance to make the occasional swing. They might have made out that the figure looked male at first glance, and fairly well built at that. They might have noted the black spider emblem and dark grey webbing over the red portions that made up the upper chest and shoulders.

They probably would not have noted much of the figure's build was actually down to the padding effect of armour, the chest-piece in fact a steel plate. They probably would not hear the figure speak when they stopped, having pressed their left wrist.

"Hello, Mama..." a deep voice sounded.

" _Penelope, my darling, you've left your voice changer on,_ " the earpiece spoke

"Oops, sorry, is it off now?" A lighter female voice then said.

" _Much better. Anyway, I just called to say once you're done for the night, can you try and fetch some oranges for Peter's fruit juice in the morning? He must have ate the last of them..._ "

Penelope winced, recalling the four orange peels in one of her suit pouches.

"Um, nope, sorry, that was me..."

" _Well then, as long as you can get more. It's that or get a carton of orange juice for him but you know how fussy he is..._ "

"Or we could give him coffee?"

" _Of course, Penny, because having a hyperactive six year old who can literally climb up the walls worked so well that time you let him have some._ "

"In my defence I couldn't do the wall crawling thing until I was nine and dad says he was eight when he could manage it reliably, so I was just as surprised as you."

There was a pause.

"...And kind of a little proud I guess because, well, he's my baby brother and all even if it is only really triggered by excess energy."

" _Quite. Anyway, stay safe and don't stay out too long, you have school tomorrow._ "

"I'll probably be heading home soon anyway. Hang on, I see a guy being very suspicious here..."

" _Try not to give this one a concussion, my little spider,_ " Her mother chuckled.

"Not my fault that guy ran into a street lamp! Talk to you later, bye!" Penelope ended the call, and swung into action.

* * *

Professional wrestling was hardly a huge money-spinner, even in North America and Japan, unless of course you were based in Stamford. But tonight had been a good night for a small French promotion, though the nature of being in a relatively rare and unpopular business in France meant every good night counted. The cashier was pleased to note they'd turned a decent profit, placing the sorted and bagged cash into his briefcase. Just a short walk to his car, the corridor leading straight to an exit. He'd put it in the bank the next morning, and business would go on, the company safe for another month.

The man who held a knife to his throat as he left his office swiftly ruined his perceptions of how safe everything was.

"The cash, or I slit your throat, man."

"I-I don't have it, it's taken away as soon as it's counted, all I have is paperwork..." The cashier tried.

"Don't lie!"

The blade bit into his skin. The cashier's bravery evaporated, and he handed the case over.

"Sensible man. Now lock your office door, give me the keys, and give me your phone. You're not calling cops until I'm long gone, got it? Car keys too. Your car the silver Megane outside?"

The cashier nodded and obeyed. The knifeman walked backwards to the door, leaving the cashier to watch him escape, and watch his company be stolen from him.

"You can run off to find another phone," The knifeman taunted as he walked out the door, and then he screamed as he was pulled up.

The cashier stared in shock, as the screams grew muffled. He slowly walked to the door, and found everything in a neat pile outside. There was still a noise of someone giving muffled protests somewhere, but he couldn't see the thief.

At least, not until he turned around and saw him cocooned in web, stuck above the doorway. He fumbled with his phone.

" _Emergency services, what service do you require?_ "

"I... I, uh... I'm not sure what I need..."

* * *

"Look at this, Marinette, what do you see?" Alya waved her phone in her friend's face

"Someone on a roof?" Marinette replied, for she was in face the secret identity of Captain Obvious.

"This was right around that area a mugger was found tied up last night. It's the first ever picture of Spider-Man, I know it!"

"Um, maybe it was just someone on the roof for some fresh air? Or a ghost? Or an alien?"

"Please, Mari, that's just ridiculous. Why would someone go all the way up to the roof when they could just open the window?" Alya said, leaving Marinette pondering if Alya was actually considering the other two options as being plausible.

Fortunately for her, Alya's latest lecture-rant about heroes was briefly interrupted by a text, the caller ID saying it was from 'Penny' followed by a Penguin emoji.

'want me to email the stuff from my relatives or just bluetooth it?'

"Yes, Penny's came through with the stuff..."

"Make sure its really her and not Chloé trying to put a virus on your phone..." Marinette fretted.

"Mari, Chloé isn't that good with technology anyway. Besides, if Penelope wanted to mess with people's phones she could probably get some kind of Stark-Tech device to blow up every phone in the school, so we should be glad she uses her powers for good!"

"Alya, she doesn't _have_ powers except that apparently she's the only person Chloé actually likes, and that seems more like a curse if you ask me..."

"Oh, look at this, that's a pretty good shot of the Spider-Man that's in New York right now! Shame ours seems to be more camera-shy than Penelope and Juleka combined..."

(Only Penelope, with enhanced hearing, and Rose, right beside her, heard the mumbled "I'm not camera-shy, I'm jinxed," from Juleka.)

"... Because it looks like web-slinging makes you pretty buff. Though his side-kick seems to be closer to our age if height is any indicator."

"Alya, please tell me you're not crushing on a superhero that lives six thousand kilometers away."

"I am not crushing on a superhero that lives six thousand kilometers away, I am _lusting_ over _two_ superheroes that live six thousand kilometers away. Key difference!"

"That's kind of just as bad..."

At the front of the class, not even needing the mildly enhanced hearing that came with a spider-sense to hear the conversation, Penny briefly pondered if she should warn her American cousins to stay away from Paris just as a precaution.

* * *

Jean-Paul felt paranoid. Like someone or something was watching him. But he always felt like that when he'd been scoping out a nice car. Learn the routine. Learn when it could be stolen. Roar through the streets. Dump it and burn it, or take it to a chop shop. And whatever moron owned the sport coupé he was nearing had skimped on the security. Thirty to forty thousand euros on the car, two or three thousand more on accessories and the sound system... about ten cents on the locks, and nine of that was spent on the key.

Breaking in was easy. He reached to start the vehicle, and paused. What was that noise?

He turned to look at the seat behind him. Nothing.

He went back to trying to hotwire the car, only for someone to knock on the window beside him.

"Who's there?!"

There was a knock on the other window.

"This isn't funny, show yourself!"

There was a knock on the roof. Jean-Paul scrambled out of the car with lightning speed.

"Who the hell are you?!"

"Same to you, pal," The shape crouched atop the car challenged.

Jean-Paul produced his pocket knife.

"Don't mess around, I'll cut you!"

This, to his surprise, did not have much effect on the shape, who seemed to nod in enjoyment as it stood up and hopped down. Jean-Paul scrambled back a little, waving the blade at the blue and red figure. It... he didn't seem all that tall, but Jean-Paul wasn't exactly a big guy himself.

"Ooh, nice knife. Little small though, I mean if it was a medium or large knife I'd be in trouble, but I'm immune to small knives..."

So this joker wasn't scared by knives?

"What about guns?" Jean-Paul grinned, producing a pistol.

The figure cocked its head.

"Guns, yeah, they're a problem... if they're real."

The figure stretched out its hands, and shot ropes into his weapons. Jean-Paul squealed as they were yanked from his hands. The figure tossed the knife into the wall beside him, and Jean-Paul's terrified mind noted that a seemingly casual flick of the wrist _had buried the blade to the hilt in the brickwork_.

"Guns made of plastic with 'six millimetre ball bearing' on the side, they're not much of problem. Oh, and you don't have a magazine in this, but, that's like the least of your issues right now," The figure said, crushing the toy gun in one hand like it was made of paper.

Jean-Paul's eyes rolled back and he collapsed with a whimper.

The police who arrived a few moments later found one fainted car thief, one knife nearly halfway through a wall, the shattered remains of a toy BB gun, and one unstolen car.

* * *

In the middle of class on Wednesday, Penelope's phone suddenly rang.

"Penelope Parker..." Madame Bustier sighed at the interruption.

"It's supposed to redirect to voicemail!" She squeaked.

"She did set it, Madame Bustier, I saw her doing it before class started," Sabrina said.

"Who exactly is calling?"

"It says it's my dad..."

"Then please leave the classroom to answer him and explain yourself when you return."

She did so, face red as she answered.

"Hello?"

"Bonjour [to you to, Penelope. This is actually your dad's boss in the States. Long story short, had to ask him to go to that reception for the Italian PM tonight for some pretty urgent face to face contract saving stuff, which I understand you were already attending, and since your dad was worried about finding a reliable babysitter for your brother at such short notice, I suggested he ask you to ask a friend...]" An American voice said mostly in English.

"Mister Stark..." Penelope tried, but was ignored.

"[...Now, Ben was going to phone you at lunchtime, said you have your phone set to redirect to voicemail before then, so I fixed that, it's just more efficient to get the ball rolling ASAP. In hindsight should probably have called your teacher first... JARVIS, can you place a call to the teacher?]"

"[Possibly, sir, though a specific name might be useful,]" A new voice cut in.

"[Oops. Penny, what's your teacher's name?]

"Madame Bustier, Caline Bustier..."

"[Hm, Bustier? Not in this picture... Anyway, JARVIS is handling that side of things, you find a babysitter for your brother, and, I dunno, we'll genetically engineer you a unicorn for your troubles or something if we can secure that contract with the Italians. Bye. Oh, wait a second, you can understand English, right? Other than 'what is your teacher's name' because otherwise we have a problem.]"

"[I can understand English, Mister Stark, but I'm not sure I understand...]"

"[Good, better get back to class, bye,]" The billionaire hung up, leaving Penelope with a simple thought.

' _...If he's not lying about the unicorn that could be cool I guess, but what the hell just happened?_ '

She re-entered the classroom, to find an embarrassed Madame Bustier hanging up her own phone.

"So, uh... Mister Jarvis explained everything there, Penelope, and, um, he also asked me to say the unicorn thing probably isn't possible... Er, you can go back to your seat."

* * *

At lunch, Penelope barely had a chance to reach for her bag when her classmates surrounded her.

"Did you seriously just get phoned by freaking Iron Man?!" Alya virtually yelled.

"...On your dad's behalf to try and find a babysitter?" Nino added.

"Her father _is_ the Chief Executive Officer for the Mainland Europe division of Stark Industries," Chloé bragged.

"Uh, yeah. I don't suppose anyone's free to babysit?"

"I would but Juleka and I are going to see a movie," Rose said.

"Well, to pay you back for that stuff your Aunt sent over, I'm babysitting my sisters, and I'm pretty sure he's in the same class as one of them..." Alya said.

"Thanks for the offer, Alya, but remember that Peter and your youngest sister get on like a house on fire? Or should I say school? By which I mean last week they set their classroom on fire? They'll probably burn your house down and giggle about it the whole time is what I'm saying here," Penelope remined her

"Ah. Yeah, I forgot about that."

"I mean, to be fair if you have a fire extinguisher and an elephant tranquilliser gun you might be okay, but..."

"I've only got the fire extinguisher, sorry."

"Well, me and Sabrina are out, we're going to the party too," Chloé said.

"I can do it."

Penelope looked at Marinette.

"...You sure?"

"You can't leave little Petey with _her_!" Chloé protested.

"Okay, Chloé, after nearly ten years I still don't get or really care whatever the issue is between you and Marinette but the fact is, she's probably the only one who can do this because no offence, Mylene, even if you're free, Peter is an expert at finding bugs and he's not afraid to use them..."

The short dreadlocked girl squeaked in fear at the mere idea of weaponized bugs.

"I-I'm busy anyway, sorry..."

"...And frankly I doubt any of the guys would survive my brother, no offense, boys."

"Uh, what about me?" Alix said.

"You have a roller derby tonight," Penelope and Kim both reminded her.

"Oh, yeah. Crap, that's tonight?! I thought I had more time to practise!"

"So that's pretty much the bottom line I guess."

"Hmph, well, your options are pretty limited I guess. But mark my words, Marinette, Petey is a darling child, so look after him properly!"

"...Not quite what I'd say but yeah, if you're still up for it, he's not that bad. Just keep sugar to a minimum and for the love of all that is holy do not let him drink anything with caffeine in it."

"I can manage that..."

"Great, as long as your parents are cool with it that's about it."

Marinette nodded.

There was a short moment of silence.

"...Shouldn't you all be going to lunch now?" Madame Bustier reminded them.

* * *

Later that evening, at the city hall reception, Benjamin Richard Parker managed to get his daughter alone for a moment.

"Penelope, sorry again about Mister Stark. I tried to convince him it could wait a little while, but he runs to his own schedule and it's not exactly easy to get him to listen once he has an idea," He said.

"It's fine, Dad..."

"You sure? You seem a little antsy."

"I'm a _Parker_ , not a _Pym_ , Dad..."

"Doesn't seem like it's just your usual aversion to having your picture taken... Ah, yeah, I know what's bugging you -you won't have much time for your new hobby tonight, will you?"

"No..."

"And that's fine. You can't be out there all the time after all. Besides, you know the full meaning of the phrase that runs in our family..."

"...Listen very carefully, I shall say this only once?"

"No, I mean..."

"...What are you doing holding that serving girl in your arms?"

"No, the _American_ side of the family, Honey, you just made a point of being a Parker not thirty seconds ago."

"Oh, right, great power and great responsibility."

"Yes. And sometimes that means responsibility to yourself. Taking a break and looking after yourself can be as important as doing what you do. After all, if you push yourself too far, you can't do anything in the end, can you?"

"And my grades would probably suffer," Penelope added.

"If that happens you can just benefit from good old fashioned nepotism like I did when Tony Stark hand-picked me for the job, due to him knowing my father and knowing your mother's family through his own father's work during the war."

"...Uh, didn't Mister Stark only find out all that stuff like three years after he appointed you?"

"Well, yes. But my point is, relax a little. Go hang out with Chloé or something, worrying about things isn't going to help. And your grades are fine, I saw your report card."

"Aren't they coming next week?" Penelope raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I'd like to say 'where does Daddy work' but we both know who taught you how to use a computer..." Benjamin said.

"What you're saying is, Mama totally did not hack into the school system to get a sneak peek."

"That is exactly what I'm saying."

* * *

In the suburbs, a white van sat near a small industrial estate south of Charles de Gaulle Airport. Six men were inside, holding ski masks.

"Alright, we do this fast. No cops, we don't confront any security, we just get in, grab the guns, and go. Any questions?"

"...What about the Spider?"

"For the last time, Gaston, there's no spider, there's no hand-cruncher, and there's no little mouse that leaves money under the pillow. And no names inside there, the cameras might have microphones."

The lock sealing the gates to the warehouse did not hold out against the van, nor did the side door resist the crowbars the masked men carried. One man kept the engine idling as the five rushing the building itself. The intruder alarms began blaring as soon as the door was smashed open.

"You four start looking for the crates, I'll get the loading bay door open," One instructed.

The other four moved swiftly, flashlights checking the labels on the sides of crates. One of them found the right numbers.

"They're here, let's grab them!"

There were five crates, the four men quickly putting them in the back of their van and hopping back in, all under a minute. The doors were slammed shut to a yelp.

"Oh, sorry, guess there is a hand-cruncher after all..."

"You did that on purpose you prick!" Gaston whimpered as he cradled his squashed hand.

The van was soon far from the scene, skirting away from police routes until they reached their destination, another van parked in a side alley. Transferring the cargo, they poured gasoline over the other van, and set it alight as they drove off.

By the time the Police knew the stolen van was a burning wreck, the second van had dumped the cargo and was now hidden in a warehouse in the city centre.

"Alright, no problems, huh? We pulled that off flawlessly, gentlemen!"

"Speak for yourself..." Gaston muttered, his hand still throbbing.

"But this was just the start. Now we can be less subtle. We can march into any place we want, because we've got guns. Untraceable, black market guns! And all because of Fabien overhearing they were being shipped out to England. Fabien, my friend..."

The leader took a crowbar to a crate, snapping it open.

"...You're a moron."

"What?! Julien..."

"These aren't 'black-market' guns, these are black _powder_ guns! They're antiques!" Julien hefted up one of the muskets.

"But they said they're from Vietnam and they were being shipped to central London! Look, the labels say NAM, that's what Americans call it in movies!" Fabien protested.

"I'm a moron too for not reading the labels clearer, but if you spoke a word of English you'd see that this in fact says National Army Museum. Museum. As in, display. These are all Napolenic-era muskets and sabres!"

"...Maybe that's better," One of the other six spoke.

"How is it better?" Gaston sneered.

"Black powder is fairly easy to get, and making bullets is easy too. We can actually train with these without wasting ammo we can't replace. We can fire warning shots, scare people with the fact they shoot big bullets. We're not planning on fighting off RAID, we want to be in, scare people into handing over goods, and out. And we can use the swords to make sure no one thinks that just because we only have one shot they can rush us."

"Jacob has a point. These are simple guns. We can learn how they work fast. We've got blunderbusses, muskets, rifles, and... whatever the hell this thing is..."

Julien picked up a seven-barrelled monster.

"Yeah. If all we want is scary-looking guns, _this_ is a scary-looking gun. Gaston's little spider will only have one leg left if we hit him with this..."

* * *

Penelope breathed a small sigh of relief she hadn't realised she was holding in when she saw the front-page story in the papers had happened way outside of where she'd been working. And the Police said they were mostly replicas and non-firing antiques...

...Then again, they had also said there was no wall-crawling web-slinger and she knew for a fact there was.

As she neared the school gates, she saw a small group of teachers clustered by the entrance, discussing a newspaper being waved by the handlebar-moustached PE Instructor.

"An utter travesty. Those were antiques, and to think they'll probably be melted for scrap. And one of the few genuine Nock Volley Guns still in working condition was amongst them..." Monsieur D'Argencourt said.

"And I suppose this is all because of Mayor Burgoise and his soft-touch, hm?" Another teacher sighed, though D'Argencourt did not catch the condescension in his tone.

"Of course! Why, a competent mayor would have cracked down on crime, but for now Paris must suffer crimes like this and that ludicrous vigilante story until I win the election next May!"

A growl beside her saw Penny swiftly escort Chloé past the teachers towards class, before someone else started thrashing.

"Who does he think he is?! Thinking he can win the election... the election is months away and Daddy's still polling strongly against all challengers!"

"Yes, he is, Chloé. After all, not one of the other four hundred and seven applicants have double figures," Penelope said.

"And the large number of challengers forcing the final election to be pushed back two months just, um, shows how strong democracy is in Paris thanks to your father?" Sabrina offered.

"Yeah! Oh... I just remembered, I wanted to ask him if he had any places left for fencing tutoring."

Penelope looked at the blonde like she had grown an extra head.

"...Well, my advice about it from before to one side, after that back there are you really sure you can trust yourself with pointy weapons around Monsieur D'Argencourt?"

"Ah, but his private classes have Adrien there! He'll be a soothing influence..." Chloé sighed.

"Okay, sure. Still have no idea what the big deal is with Adrien, we've both known him since we were kids and yeah, he's kinda handsome I'll admit, but he doesn't make me go all googly-eyed..."

"Imagine if he had red hair instead."

Penelope practically felt her spider-senses kick in at that.

"...What difference would that make?"

"Oh please, Penny, I've seen the family photos in your house, and not just the ones where you're trying to hide from the camera. Your Grandfather married a redhead, your father of course married a redhead... Chasing redheads is in your DNA."

"But my aunt married a guy with black hair, and I'm a girl like my aunt so maybe I prefer black hair, hm?"

"Sure..."

"But now you mention it, I guess Adrien would probably look okay with black hair. And I admit, he's a nice enough guy, but to be honest, even with black hair I just couldn't see him as boyfriend material."

"You mean red."

"I don't mean red."

"Yes you do."

"Don't."

"Do."

"Will you shut up about it if I agree I do?" Penelope tried.

"Maybe?"

"Then I did mean black hair."

"Red," Chloé did not fall for the trap.

"Fine, red."

"Aha! I-won-the-argument selfie!" The blonde said, quickly pulling Penelope in while whipping out her phone.

"Gha, Chloé, why do you keep doing that?!"

"Oh come on, they're just photos, they don't steal your soul."

"I still don't like having my picture taken..."

* * *

 **Authors Notes:** Before we get started, does anyone want to get off?

Wait, no, what I meant to say was- some clarification may be in order. First, this isn't a specific Marvel continuity being employed here, It's a safe bet to think that if you read this story and it continues, maybe you'll see elements of Marvel Comics, Movies, Cartoons, and Memes referenced. In fact it may be safer to regard it not so much as Marvel but more just a superhero crossover continuity. Because maybe I might bring in elements from other comics like the esteemed competition or the European counterparts. Maybe other media. Maybe you'll see references to 1980s and 1990s BBC sitcoms. Maybe you'll see references to things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire on the shoulder of Orion...

Ahem, anyway, the other main part of the crossover comes with one big ol' caveat too.

In terms of Ladybug, well, uh... I haven't watched a single episode of this series. Combined with the cherrypicked Marvelverse I'm deploying, I am literally writing fanfic based on fanfic, fanon, wikis, tvtropes, and basically just making it up as I go along. In short, while I have a plan, I may appear to no idea what I am doing because in some ways I don't. As evidenced by how I said "before we get started" in an authors note that comes after we got started.

Well, okay, that's kind of false. I do have an idea. At least four arcs planned each with at least four chapters. Spidey villains, Ladybug villians, Marvel villians, revamped villians, made-up villains, petty crimes.

However, I've had more direct contact with Spidey. The 90s animated series, the Maguire movies, facepalmed at how the Amazing series was ultimately a let-down, Civil War, some exposure to the comics (not much in terms of recent stuff, except for one eight-page story from 2015 that we'll discuss in a little more detail next time), but for some flexibility and a French spider-"man" we have Penelope Mary Jane Parker and her unflattering uparmoured Spidersuit that makes everyone think she's a dude but hey, disguises are disguises.

In terms of writing, I've got a plan and I like to think that even if it's just a cheap gag I've got down stuff that at least is part of the plan. I don't want to try and flag up every little thing I did, but some of you may have spotted mythology gags. Some of you may have spotted call-forwards. Some of you may have spotted an apparent mistake about the number of districts a city has. I'm sure some of you got the Blade Runner reference up there a few minutes ago.

The goal for each chapter is six thousand words approx, which I think is roughly a half-hours reading to the average person, a bit shorter for speed-readers. The goal for this story as a whole is to have at least five parts/arcs of four chapters each, covering the odd Akuma. I don't intend to go into detail and recap them: After all, I haven't really seen the show, and faithfully retreading the stations of the canon is something of a trope that can be irksome in crossovers or AUs for people who already know the story. Penelope reasonably would not be there for every single akuma, and nor would LB and CN pop up for every petty criminal or wannabe super-villain that Hawk Moth didn't empower. The objective is to try and have some things change. No idea how successful I'll be, but hopefully some of you might join me in trying to find out, should I keep on with this story.


End file.
